


Between the Lines

by Bumblepuppy



Category: Dragalia Lost (Video Game)
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 14:38:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18412676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bumblepuppy/pseuds/Bumblepuppy
Summary: Assorted snapshots of cases that Curran and Heinwald worked on together, and how their relationship has developed over time.





	1. Prologue

Everything about Heinwald, for lack of better words, creeped Curran out. From the man’s patchwork appearance to his disturbing mannerisms, every movement the nobleman made made Curran regret this partnership. Sure, the guy was good at connecting the dots, but he was dangerously close to skirting the the definition of ‘heretic’ at every decision he made. Besides, how much faith could one put in a guy who read arcane tomes for fun?

Seeing a grey shape in his peripheral, Curran immediately moved his arm back.

“Don’t touch me with that!” He had loudly deflected Heinwald’s hand from touching his shoulder.

“’That’ is my hand,” In spite of Curran’s action, Heinwald’s voice was flat and even. “But if you want me to get your attention in a way that disgusts you a little less, I could conjure some spectral figures to tug on your lapels.” Of course he would say something like that. The damn weirdo.

“Just… give me a warning next time you touch me, alright?” Curran huffed. He was surprised that his partner’s creepy, discolored arm actually had warmth to it. He would have guessed that the man was as cold as a corpse. Heinwald beckoned towards the wall with his head.

“Your ‘heretic’ is hiding in a secret room behind this wall. You can’t tell me that you aren’t a little bit excited about breaking it down.”

He had to admit that it did sound fun.

“How do you figure that?”

“Listen,” Heinwald moved to another part of the room, rapping his discolored hand against the surface. Each knock sounded solid, until he approached the wall in question. Even though his knocking was gentle, the sound was unmistakably hollow. “That was one sign that there was a secret passageway here, but you could also tell if you noticed how he sealed the wall. Quite sloppily, really, he didn’t even use mag—“

Curran slammed his axe into the wall before Heinwald could finish, startling the smaller man. The thin cover had shattered, littering the room the two were standing in with wooden debris.

“I was going to suggest a quiet entrance, but I guess barging in like a bull is acceptable.” Curran was already sprinting through the hallway.

“There’s no time for subtlety! This guy’s been releasing fiends onto villages!” The mage sighed.

“Very well, then.” He followed the inquisitor into the passage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's really short because I didn't expect the rest of this fic to get long enough that I'd divide it into chapters. Whoops!


	2. Dinner

Standing at the door to Heinwald’s manor, Curran often wondered why his partner never wanted to have their rendezvous in the church. He smirked at the idea of the holy symbols burning Heinwald’s flesh or the thought of the man melting after crossing the threshold. The inquisitor took the handle of one of the knockers—of course he would have heavy and ornate door knockers—and knocked it against the door three times.

Heinwald answered almost too eagerly. “Ah, Curran! You’ve arrived just in time!” The nobleman looked more exhausted than usual, his spectacles sitting crooked on his face. “I’ve just finished running tests on that fabric you found. I’ve pinpointed the exact place of origin, as well as the material.” He motioned towards the dining room, where a pile of loose parchment was sitting on the table.

“You wrote all of this?” Curran thumbed through the pages, furrowing his brow at what Heinwald had written. He had certainly… filled the pages… but between letters that didn’t seem to be from an alphabet that he’d ever seen and the man’s hurried illustrations, Curran couldn’t make heads or tails of his notes.

“I’ll walk you through it during dinner. Is there anything I can get you to drink?” 

 

If nothing else, at least Heinwald’s servants could cook a nice meal. It was easy enough for Curran to scoop a spoonful of potatoes into his mouth and nod while Heinwald tried to explain his insane methods of experimentation.

“The shimmer seemed like something that would have come from an animal’s pelt, but the texture was too smooth to have been directly from a creature. While the fabric looks delicate, it doesn’t fray easily—in fact, it wouldn’t yield to flames or even acids.”

Curran buttered a slice of bread. “Uh huh.”

“But this false prophet that you’re after… she used her ability to touch poisons and fire without harm to prove that she was a reincarnation of Ilia, correct? I focused my attention on that ability of hers, and what creatures’ hides would contain similar properties. With this in mind, I searched the bestiary of the area she resides in, but I didn’t have much luck there.”

Curran wasn’t sure when or how his mug of beer was refilled, but he took a large swig from it.

“Then I remembered that the town she’s running her practice in is on a trade route—one that frequently trades with a lakeside town. A lakeside town that has a reputation for what it pulls from its waters.”

Come to think of it, had he ever seen any of Heinwald’s servants? His empty plate had been taken away and replaced with a small dish of panna cotta. He hadn’t been giving Heinwald his undivided attention, but it seemed that the moment he turned his eyes to meet the mage’s, the table dressing had changed.

“As it turns out, this was made from the skin of an eel. A rare, giant eel—an ‘abaia’. It’s illegal to hunt these creatures, killing one is bad luck and the meat is foul-tasting, but there’s a chance that she had met a poacher from this town and worked out a deal there. This would lead to an entire chain of events and unsavory characters, but the church only has business with the one claiming she’s a deity, so we’ll focus on her.”

“Bathroom.”

“I’m sorry?”

He couldn’t pay attention to Heinwald’s deductions any longer. Any excuse to leave this table—to see what sort of staff this lunatic had working in his manor. If he had any staff in his manor. Heinwald seemed embarrassed that his partner had cut his exposition short. He cleared his throat. “Down the west hall. Last door on the left.”

 

He had ignored Heinwald’s directions, of course. The kitchen had to have been close to the dining room, right? Curran had opened every door near the room he had exited, but each one only lead to a dark, unoccupied room. Spare bedrooms, broom closets, studies (the bathroom, which was exactly where Heinwald had said it was), but there was no kitchen around, and Curran had not run into another soul.

There was a tall spiral staircase towards the end of the hallway. Curran doubted that there would be a kitchen up there, but at this point he was desperate just to find any other person in the building. While he assumed that Heinwald wouldn’t have much use of the entire manor, it seemed preposterous that he wouldn’t have any help around. The mage would probably forget to eat if he didn’t have a friendly reminder from a patient, long-indebted-to-a-rich-family butler who could overlook his eccentricities.

The second floor of the manor felt off. It was impossible for it to be the case, but Curran felt as if there was a fog filling the halls, making it difficult for him to even think about what he was seeing. He thought he had caught a glimpse of movement, but when he tried to motion towards it he felt as if his body was moving through sand.

“Is there anybody here? Hello?” His voice sounded like it was coming from a megaphone twenty feet in front of him rather than from his own mouth. He squinted and could make out the outline of a door and made his way towards it. Though the entire atmosphere around it was bizarre, the door seemed normal and Curran barely needed to turn the knob to open it.

If Curran were to judge the room from his initial glance, it would have seemed normal. There was a four-poster bed and a night stand. An elaborately carved wardrobe stood a little further from the bed and stand, and a small, intricate chandelier hung above the furniture pieces. It was shockingly normal for what appeared to be Heinwald’s bedroom, but a closer look proved that it was barely even that.

The room didn’t appear to have walls—or a floor or ceiling, for that matter. While the items of furniture were level with each other, they seemed to be suspended in a void. Curran could not deduce the color of the area he found himself in. He wanted to say it was ‘black’, but it seemed more like emptiness. An expansive field of nothing that pooled out from under the bed and continued endlessly. A thunderous echo sounded from the depths, and Curran again thought he spotted some movement, but this time he wasn’t curious enough to see what the source of it was. He slammed the door shut, closing his eyes and shivering in the process.

“You’re nowhere near the bathroom, Curran.” Curran shrieked as he heard his partner’s voice, steady as ever, speak directly into his ear. He whirled around to see Heinwald, calmly staring at him. “If you wanted a tour of my manor, you could have just asked.”

“I…. I got a little lost…” It was obvious he was lying. Heinwald knew he was lying. Still, he didn’t seem too upset after Curran’s breach of his privacy. “Sorry… you never finished telling me about this eel.”

As the two made their way back to the dining room, Curran couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this makes some sense? In a nonsensical way? I just imagine Hein's estate is... abstract. :)


	3. Healing

“Don’t move, you’re hurt.”

“It’s nothing serious! Come on, you don’t have to—“ Heinwald grabbed Curran’s arm before he could continue his protest.

“’Nothing serious’? Curran, this wound is deep. If you don’t treat this immediately, you’ll suffer from nerve damage.” For someone so scrawny, his grip was firm. It didn’t seem that deep—he had encounters with fiends that left him way bloodier than this hound’s bite had—but he had never seen Heinwald look so… concerned?

“So what, do you have bandaged in your cloak? If not, I’m sure this can wait until we get back to the church. Hildegarde can fix this up in no time.”

“Here, sit on that rock. It’s a two-hour ride back to the church, and that’s too long to leave this untreated,” Heinwald had grown used to Curran looking at him like he was insane, but the look on his face was a level of incredulousness that he hadn’t seen in a while. “What? I’m a healer too, you know.”

Heinwald trying to reassure Curran by saying he was a healer was like a serial killer saying that they were good with people. The inquisitor was terrified that his partner was going to transform his arm into slime before he would actually heal it. Against his own will, Curran followed him to the rock, taking a seat.

“This shouldn’t take long,” Heinwald knelt in front of Curran, putting his scarred hand over Curran’s injury. Planting his staff into the ground, he closed his eyes. Curran looked toward his wound, seeing a faint violet hue glowing under his partner’s hand. Compared to the healers at the church, this definitely felt… different. It wasn’t painful, but compared to the light and ethereal feeling of Hildegarde’s spells, there was something ‘earthy’ about what Heinwald was doing. If healing from the church was a warm pillow and a soft down comforter, Heinwald’s spells were like lying in moss.

His eyes followed the staff, where he saw a similar violet light where it touched the ground. Under closer inspection, the light seemed to come from tiny spectral hands, reaching up and squeezing the life out of each blade of grass that they touched. A few flowers had wilted under their grasp. There was a rustle of movement, and a mouse scampered towards the staff. With a deafening squeak, one of the hands pulled the mouse to the ground, and Curran watched the creature become lifeless under its grasp.

“…That should be enough.” Heinwald removed his hand from Curran’s arm. The inquisitor was dumbstruck from what he had just witnessed that he didn’t even look at his arm.

“Uh… thanks.” The mage frowned, expecting a bit more gratitude. He rose from his kneeling position, using the staff to steady himself.

“Well, come along now. It’s a long ride back home.” He extended his hand to Curran. Curran reached out, only just catching sight of his healed arm. To his surprise, it looked like nothing had ever punctured it. Even small scratches and bruises that he had gotten earlier in the week had faded. While the church had plenty of skilled healers, they would only focus on one injury at a time. He had never seen such a clean heal before.

“Oh, wow, you really did a good job, didn’t you?” For the first time, Curran willingly took Heinwald’s discolored hand in his own, pulling himself up from the rock. “I’m… I’m sorry that I doubted your healing abilities, Heinwald. Thanks a cotillion!”

Heinwald was taken aback. Did Curran actually say something nice to him? Did he just willingly touch him? He blushed, turning his back to his partner.

“I think you mean ‘thanks a million’.”


	4. Tents

Usually, when the two of them had cases that would take them far from the church, the church would cover fees for lodging. They had stayed in all sorts of places, from luxurious resorts to sleazy hostels where they would have to take shifts keeping watch in fear that their belongings would be stolen by another lodger if they were both asleep. Even in less-than-desirable situations, they would be close to the case. Close to civilization.

“You’ve never gone camping before, have you?” Curran couldn’t help but chuckle at his partner’s obvious inexperience. Heinwald seemingly packed a full sized bed’s worth of blankets and pillows with him, and was arranging them in a manner that was uncomfortably formal. “I brought two sleeping bags, but I’m going to guess you’re good without one.”

“You’re certain that there wasn’t a church-sanctioned outpost where we could have stayed? A tent in the woods hardly seems ideal, especially if they think we might be out here for a week.” There was discomfort in his voice that Curran had never heard before. This case had everything the mage loved—possession, riddles, arcane magic, and a cult at the center of all of it—but when he learned that that they would be spending time in a tent, his enthusiasm disappeared.

“Seriously, you’re fine with entering haunted libraries and fiend-infested caves, but sleeping outside is where you draw the line? You nobles are really something.” Heinwald furrowed his brow at this.

“I don’t sleep in those caves or libraries! It’s different when you have your guard down…” As if his estate wasn’t any less cursed than the places they visited. Curran was torn between feeling sympathetic towards his partner’s anguish and feeling like it was only fair for him to be the uncomfortable one after dragging the inquisitor through so many terrifying situations.

“Look, we’ll probably only be out here for two days, tops,” Heinwald seemed to perk up. “You’ve already figured out the perimeters of their compound before we arrived, as well as some history on their leader. It would take a week if we didn’t have that much on our side, but with what we know it should be simple.” Curran would have loved to keep badgering his partner, but something within him dared to be reassuring. Seeing Heinwald’s face light up, he felt it was worth it.

“You’re too kind,” Curran had never noticed that Heinwald had dimples when he smiled. “If it weren’t for your strength, however, we’d still be nowhere. So… thanks.” The mage turned away from Curran, the complimentary words falling off his tongue like a foreign language. Curran grinned.

 

The halo gleamed in his hands, reflecting the glow of the lantern hanging from the top of the tent. Curran’s eyes were closed shut as he knelt motionless in prayer. He finished, placing the halo gently on top of his folded clothes.

“What do you pray for, Curran?” Heinwald’s voice was nearly a whisper. Curran shot him a glare, but he seemed earnest in his questioning. A sigh escaped the inquisitor’s lips.

“All sorts of things, Hein,” He wasn’t sure when he started calling him ‘Hein’. Was it because his name was a mouthful, or was it out of fondness? “My health. Your health. A good turnout for tomorrow… and for you to have a good night’s sleep, and maybe even that you’ll enjoy camping!”

Heinwald frowned. “I sincerely doubt the Goddess can affect my feelings towards the outdoors, no matter how hard you pray.”

“No, but she can affect the outcome of things. She can prevent fiends from encountering our tent in the middle of the night. She can assure that we’ll find some eggs or catch a nice fish for breakfast tomorrow.”

“She couldn’t make it so we’d stumble upon brioche or hot coffee.”

Curran smirked. “If that’s what you want, maybe you should start praying.”

Heinwald returned his smile. He was still huddled in a pile of blankets, but at least he looked to be having a better time. Curran wasn’t sure if the pillows and blankets were simply overstuffed, but Heinwald looked so small in comparison to them. Without his robes, Curran could see just how scrawny and frail he was, and even though he was wearing a nightshirt, the extensive patchwork of his body was clearly visible. He didn’t seem self-conscious about it, but Curran couldn’t help but stare. Heinwald stopped smiling.

“It’s rude to stare, you know,” he held a blanket over himself defensively. “I don’t like secrets. If you have any questions, I’m willing to answer them for you.” Curran blinked, moving closer to his partner.

“No, I… I’m sorry, I was just distracted.” His arms were moving without without his input, cupping one hand onto Heinwald’s cheek and running the other through his hair. Heinwald’s eyes widened at first, but he leaned into Curran’s hand like a stray cat feeling affection for the first time in its life. Curran pulled his face closer to Heinwald’s.

His lips were soft.


	5. Beliefs

Heinwald liked Curran’s room in the church. It was small, yes, but cozy. His walls were filled with decorations—holy symbols, paintings, even some handwritten letters were preserved behind sheets of glass. The light of the sunrise spilling through the window added to his room’s warmth, illuminating the golden leaf title of a book on Curran’s desk, outlining the curve of Curran’s cheek.

“I have no issue with your Goddess, or any tenant of your religion, for that matter,” his voice was soft, half-muffled by the pillow his face was against. “But as with any religion, I can only see it as hypothesis. It would take a lot of evidence for me to believe in Ilia and her legends.”

Curran breathed a heavy sigh. While Heinwald had become a much more welcome presence in his life, discussing his religion with him wasn’t something he enjoyed. Maybe the mage was just clueless as to how seriously he took his faith, but his philosophical ponderings weren’t charming. Especially not as pillow talk.

“If you were anyone else, I’d row you out of bed,” he absentmindedly toyed with a lock of Heinwald’s hair, twirling it around his finger. “I’d suspect Ilia could come down from the heavens and sit on your lap, and you’d still have doubts of her existence. How much proof do you need, anyway?”

“Not much. Her making an appearance would be enough, really,” Heinwald extended his mauve colored hand to Curran’s face, tracing the glow of the sun. “I don’t want to harm your beliefs, Curran. I think your conviction is admirable. I just find it hard to believe that there would only be one deity watching over us. Does Ilia watch over those who live in uncharted territories? Those who grew up in completely different parts of the world and have never heard her name?”

“Of course she does,” Curran wasn’t looking Heinwald in the eyes, and focused instead on the tangling his fingers into his hair. “She’s not heartless. She wouldn’t forsake a nonbeliever, let alone someone who never had the chance to hear about her. If she were that cruel, I think your luck would be a lot worse.”

“I’m not a non-believer, I’m just… belief-hesitant,” he inched closer to Curran, resting his head on his chest. “There are a lot of mysteries I haven’t solved yet, Curran, but I like to see all theories as possibilities until I can rule them out. I have no reason to discredit anyone’s belief in the Goddess, yours included.”

Curran teasingly pinched his cheek. “When you meet her, I hope she punches you in the nose for being so particular about whether or not she exists.”

“I suppose I’d deserve that,” Heinwald grinned. He pulled himself from the bed, giving Curran a quick peck on the forehead before standing up. “Anyway, what’s today’s case? Something about stealing dragon scales?”

Curran pulled himself into a sitting position, grabbing his coat from the bedside table. “Yeah, apparently they’re trying to grind them into a miracle potion. Sounds like another weirdo.”

Heinwald clicked his tongue. “Come on now. Don’t insult the weirdoes.”


End file.
